We'll Meet Again Under the Pine Trees
by hues
Summary: "The people you meet from here on out will color your soul." The story of Shouyo and Gintoki and everyone that came along with them.


"The people you meet from here on out will color your soul." The story of Shouyo and Gintoki and everyone that came along with them.

Gintama belongs to Sorachi Hideaki. I don't own any of these idiots or their story! Author notes at the end! :)

**We'll Meet Again Under The Pine Trees**

**Chapter 1: Those who wander are not always lost**

A small child with white hair and red eyes scanned the abandoned battlefield before him for any sign of life. When he was sure that there was no one left alive he hurried down from the forest. As he walked through the maze of bodies his senses heightened; he listened carefully in case he needed to run away, and made sure not to step on any bodies or weapons to avoid making noise.

Once he found what he was looking for he stopped. One of the corpses had a small amount of rations in plain sight. The boy picked the bread up and didn't bother to inspect it before taking a bite. It was stale and smelled terrible but he'd had much worse.

Feeling at ease now that he had food, he sat on the corpse he took it from. He munched on the bread quietly and stared ahead, getting lost in the satisfying feeling of having something fill his stomach.

This is how he lived his life. Since his hometown was burned down and parents killed he'd been wandering, scrapping for whatever he could find to eat. He didn't mind. He kind of liked wandering, though sometimes the loneliness got to him.

A crow called out overhead, and then a few more followed. The boy snapped out of his trance and looked at the corpse in front of him. The swords these men carried always piqued his interest. He'd never held one before but wanted to try-this was his chance.

Just as he was about to reach forward and grab the weapon he heard voices coming from the opposite side of the field. The boy froze and fixed his eyes towards the distance where he spotted two men with swords at their hips. In a flash the boy was on his feet, running as fast as he could through the field.

"Hey, boy! Stop!" one of the men called out, but the boy kept running.

The men started running after him, and he kept his gaze on the forest, determined to escape. Because he was rushing, he did not take care of where his feet landed, and for that he ended up tripping over a body. He surely twisted his ankle upon hitting the ground which caused him to wince in pain. He looked back; the men had reached him. They unsheathed their swords and pointed them towards him threateningly.

"Stand up," one of them demanded.

The boy could only stare. He hadn't had this close of human interaction in a long time.

"Stand!"

The boy stood slowly, sneaking glances around the bodies for a weapon. Once he was on his feet the men lowered their swords.

"What are you doing in a place like this?"

They noticed the crumbs of bread stuck to his cheek. One of them laughed. "An abandoned little boy stealing food from our dead warriors? How sad."

One of the men grabbed him by the shoulder and then turned him around to clasp his wrists together. "You're coming with us," he said. The boy panicked but remained calm on the outside. As the man started pushing him along the pain in his sprained ankle returned. The man shoved him forward a bit, urging him to walk faster. There! The boy locked onto a sword sticking out of the ground, unsheathed and ready to be taken.

With the viciousness of an animal the boy lowered his head and sank his teeth into the man's arm, pulling at the skin until it bled. The man shouted and loosened his grip giving the boy a chance to roll away to the ground. He grabbed the sword—it was heavy!-and without hesitation lunged forward and brought it down across the man's leg. The man collapsed with an agonizing scream, and then the boy looked at the other man. He was charging at him with his sword, and perhaps it was luck, but the boy was able to avoid the strike and instead rolled to the ground and swung the sword at his leg.

Both men were on the ground now. The boy thought to run again, but he knew he wouldn't get far with his injured ankle. He kept his defensive stance as the men struggled to stand with blood oozing from their wounds.

One man was able to get to his feet and in doing so grabbed onto his sword. He ran towards the boy with a yell, but in the blink of an eye the boy's sword had been driven into his chest, and the man collapsed in a fit of coughing blood.

The other man had already started running away despite his injured leg. "You demon!" he called out.

The boy kept his eyes on the man until he disappeared into the forest. He looked at the other man lying on the ground and walked over to him. Blood pooled from his mouth and his skin had gone pale.

They stared at each other as the man took jarring breaths, struggling to survive. Each breath became more shallow. As his eyes started to close, the last breath left his body.

The boy sighed in relief. He pulled the sword out of the man's body and studied it. Blood was splattered along the course blade, but it still shined against the setting sun. Holding it gave him a strange feeling of importance and wonder; there was so much to learn about this blade. He found a scabbard among the bodies and picked it up to sheath the sword.

His stomach growled. He hadn't finished eating his bread. Taking the sword with him the boy started looking for more food. Once he found another ration he took it and sat on the body, resting the sword at his side.

More crows had surrounded the field, cawing loudly, picking bits and pieces from the rotting bodies all around. The air was dense; there was no breeze. Aside from the crows the entire area was quiet. He'd learned to ignore the stench of dead bodies and blood and waste-in fact it became a normal part of his everyday life.

With the setting of the sun came cooler temperatures. His bare toes started to get cold, and then he thought about his sprained ankle. He'd created his own methods of treatment for wounds he'd received before, but right now he was too tired to even leave the field. Perhaps he could play dead among the bodies and sleep here for the night. The company would be comforting.

He sat in silence for a bit longer, and just as he was about to take another bite of bread something landed on his head. The boy looked to his right to see a man standing before him. He hadn't even heard him approach!

"You are much too cute to be a demon—at least that's what they called you."

The boy smacked the man's hand away immediately and jumped back to unsheathe his sword.

"Did you take that from one of these bodies?"

The boy glared.

"I'm assuming you choose to protect yourself in places like this since it appears you're alone. However, you're not using that sword correctly."

Now the boy was confused. What was this man trying to say?

"A sword is meaningless if you use it to fend for yourself and chase people away," he said as he went to grab the hilt of the sword at his own hip. The boy crouched lower and prepared for an attack. What he did not expect was the man to detach the sword and toss it to him. He dropped the sword he'd been holding and fumbled with the new and much heavier one.

"Take my sword. If you want to learn how to use it correctly then come with me." The man turned around. "From now on, however, you must understand that a sword is not used to bring down your enemies and make up for your own weaknesses." Curiosity flashed across the boy's eyes.

"A sword's purpose is to protect your soul." There was a pause, and the boy realized he'd tuned out the sound of all the crows around them because of this man's soft voice. "I'll be taking my leave, now. So if you'd like," he turned to look at the boy with a smile-his eyes were large and filled with promise-and then he walked away.

The boy stood, holding his new sword close. It was almost taller than him! Should he trust this man or not? His instinct said not to trust him, but his curiosity told him to follow. There was something different about this man that he hadn't noticed in anyone else before. He took a few steps forward, and then the pain in his ankle returned. The sole of his sandals bumped into a rock sticking out of the ground and the he fell to the ground with a yelp.

He looked up to see the man had stopped and turned around. Once he was in front of him he turned around, crouched down and held his arms out behind his back. The boy blinked. "Get on," the man said.

The boy stood and hesitantly grabbed onto the man's shoulders. Once he was off the ground he wrapped his legs around the man's chest and his arms around his neck. His long sandy colored hair was soft and his body was warm.

They walked in silence for a while before a conversation began. "What's your name?"

"Gintoki."

The man smiled upon hearing the boy's small voice. "Last name?"

"...I don't have one."

"Hmm. We'll think of one later. My name is Yoshida Shouyo. You can call me Shouyo-sensei." Gintoki didn't respond, so the man continued. "How long have you been living alone?"

"'Dunno."

"You are very persistent to have survived for however long it's been, then."

"I don't wanna die."

"And where do you think your persistence comes from?"

Gintoki thought for a moment, but couldn't come up with an answer. "...'dunno."

"I think it's your soul. It wants to live."

"What's a soul?" Gintoki asked. It had been a long time since he spoke so much.

Shouyo's eyes lit up. "It's what makes us who we are. It can have a color, too."

"What's the color of yours?"

"What do you think?"

"Hmm. Green."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I like that color."

Shouyo chuckled. "Fair enough. Do you want to know what color your soul is?"

The boy nodded.

"Well, so far it's clear."

Gintoki frowned. "That's not a color."

"The people you meet from here on out will help you develop a color. The people I've met helped me develop mine."

Making friends felt strange to Gintoki. He'd only ever had fleeting interactions with people, mostly adults, and never had a friend before he started living on his own. In fact, letting this man be a part of his life was strange. He'd just killed a man and there was no question about it. Was Shouyo watching as it happened? He'd appeared out of no where without making a sound, too.

And then it hit Gintoki-he killed a man. But Shouyo promised to teach him how to use the sword correctly, and so Gintoki promised to himself to never kill another human being in fear for his own life again. Then he came up with another promise:

"Shouyo-sensei."

"Yes?"

"I made a promise."

Shouyo remained silent as he listened.

"I'm going to protect you."

"And I'll promise something to you as well. Do you know what a pinky promise is?"

"No."

Shouyo lifted one hand, holding his pinky out to Gintoki. "Take your hand and keep your pinky out, too."

Gintoki did so, and then Shouyo wrapped their pinkies together.

"We'll protect each other. You'll protect me, and I'll protect you." Shouyo smiled. "It's a promise."

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong> In light of the current arc (Shogun Assassination) and with all of this canon background on Shouyo and the joui boys I finally found the inspiration to write a story of Gin and Shouyo myself. I don't have a plan for how many chapters it will be but I want to cover everything from their first meeting and their time together before opening the school, meeting Takasugi and Zura, all the way through the war and the heart wrenching end of Shouyo's life. (That's gonna be hell to write).

I'm gonna pull a bit of real life Shouyo information to help shape his character and I'm going to try staying away from too much politics and history because I am not as well educated as a couple other Gintama writers on Japanese history. If anything is inaccurate please let me know!

Anyways, I really enjoyed writing this first chapter and I know I'll enjoy writing the rest. I'm writing this mostly for myself but also for the Gintama fandom. :o) Thanks for reading!


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